Cade's heart started racing as he headed up the stairs. He felt himself stiffen as he thought about what he was going to do. He glanced down to see the tenting in his shorts, then glanced around quickly to make sure no one could see him. He paused, reached into his briefs to make a quick adjustment, and continued on, scowling. Damn thing was always getting him into trouble.
Cade gazed at the door as he reached the top of the stairs, then headed down the hallway to the bathroom. He didn't really need to go, but he wanted to be sure he wouldn't get interrupted. He paused by the bathroom door to set his clothes and shoes down, then slipped inside and stood in front of a urinal. He pulled his still stiff penis out, pointed it, and groaned. What must Charlie have thought when he saw that pointed right at him? Once again, he was trying to swat a fly with a fucking sledgehammer. He was such a dumbass! When would he ever learn?
He frowned when nothing came, hoping he wouldn't get a surprise once he got started, then tucked himself back in, washed his hands, and headed back into the hall. The hallway almost seemed eerie. So empty. It was good, of course. This way, he wouldn't get caught. But it was still weird.
Cade jumped. Footsteps. He paused. The footsteps paused. He looked around. Was he being followed? He laughed nervously and tapped his forehead. Just his echo. He stopped at the closet door and looked around again.
***************
Charlie followed the road until the houses and yards gave way to the sagebrush. He took a deep breath again, inhaling the pungent smell of the sagebrush, sneezing a few times as he did. He finally let himself smile. This was his territory. He had been spending a lot of time up here lately on the sagebrush-covered bench just out of town. It was only a short bike ride from his house, and not many people came out here.
He wandered through the sagebrush, admiring the bright Indian paintbrush and a few purple and red flowers he had been meaning to look up, while avoiding the little cacti that dotted the ground.
He found his way to a little concrete-lined ditch, a little stream of water trickling down it. He started following the ditch, scanning the sides and wandering off a bit to see if he could find any good rocks. A familiar pattern in one of the gray pieces of limestone caught his eye. He picked up the rock to examine the fossil, which was a decent specimen of horn coral. He studied it for a bit, then gazed around him, imagining the vast, tropical sea that had covered the area in the Mississippian era, around 350 million years ago, long before the mountains had formed. He gazed at the White Horse, then at the Big Junipers, thinking that one day the Big Junipers would look as worn as the White Horse, and eventually both ranges would erode away completely. It gave him a chill to think that those mountains had looked much the same throughout all of recorded human history, and that someday even these mountains would be gone and everything anyone cared about would be completely forgotten.
He followed the ditch, deciding to check on the small livestock pond and wondering how much water it had today. He hadn't gone up to it since the end of last summer, when it was just a small puddle surrounded by cracked, dry mud.
He finally found the little pond. It looked a little deeper than last time, and clearer. A thought crossed his mind that made it stiffen. He could go skinny dipping.
Charlie glanced at the cow pies that lined the other side of the pool, wrinkling his nose at their smell. He looked at the houses in the distance to his north. Somewhat far away, but still visible. He turned to the south and gazed at the farms. He thought of the nearby road. Wondering if he could get low enough to go unnoticed, or maybe slip into the water and slip off his shorts. He dipped his hand in the water. The water was ice cold. He frowned, deciding he'd probably have a better experience sneaking into his parents' bathtub when they weren't home. Or, even better, getting the old hot tub going again.
**********
Cade's hand trembled as he pulled the key out of his pocket. He glanced around again to be sure he was alone, then lifted up the padlock, cursing as he kept missing the keyhole. He finally managed to unlock the lock, which he slipped into his pants pocket. He undid the latch and turned the antique doorknob. He winced and cussed as the hinges squeaked. One more thing whoever ran this racket was neglecting. He slipped into the cramped, empty closet and closed the door, enveloping himself in darkness save the sliver of light under the door. He set his jeans, school shoes, and shirt on a shelf. There was no reason to bring them with him, and they should be safe here. Unless someone opened the door. He frowned and moved them to a higher shelf, making a face as he brushed against some cobwebs in the process. He paused to let his eyes adjust, hoping this was the last time he had to do this. It was getting too damn expensive. He'd stopped keeping track of how much he'd spent after one hundred dollars. And it was a pain in the ass to get to. When he could just make out where he was going, he made his way to the back of the closet where someone had screwed on handholds. He lifted himself up, undid the latch on the hatch leading to the attic, and paused. The rule had always been to return the key by the last bell. He was well past that now. What if the owner came looking for the key and found him in the cupola? He groaned. He definitely did not want that. And he wouldn't need it anymore now that the lock was off. He sighed, descended the ladder, and grabbed his pants. He slipped the padlock out of his pocket, put his pants back, and cautiously opened the door a crack, looking to be sure no one noticed. He closed the door, fastened the hasp, and replaced the lock, leaving it open but turned just so to give, he hoped, the impression of it being locked.
He snuck down the stairs, until he realized that he'd look way more suspicious this way. He had to act normal. If anyone asked, he just needed to say he needed to use the bathroom.
He made his way to the auditorium and slipped the key under the door, hoping he wouldn't regret it, and returned to the closet.
Relieved to see the lock still in place, he checked the hallway, slipped the lock off again, undid the hasp, and slipped back inside the closet, setting the lock next to his pants. He climbed the ladder to the attic again, pulling himself up, trying to avoid hitting his head on a truss. He'd gotten a good goose egg that he had a hard time explaining the first time he came up here.
He stepped onto the walkway and gazed around, even though it was too dark to really see anything. He'd considered bringing a flashlight, but he had always worried that someone would see the light through the ceiling tiles and investigate. The attic had to be huge and probably pretty cool. But he doubted he'd ever get a chance to see it. He started counting his steps as he walked along the walkway, wondering who built it. It certainly wasn't the same person who was letting the hinges squeak, or all the junk litter the floor of the cupola.
When he reached 23 steps– his birthday was on the 23rd of January– he stopped and knelt down, reaching over the edge of the walkway and finding the top of his tote. He popped it open and grabbed a sketchpad and a pencil case off the top, then replaced the lid and continued on the walkway until he reached the metal ladder that had been attached to the bottom of the cupola. He tucked the sketchbook and pencil case under his arm and climbed the ladder, releasing the gravity latch that held the hatch to the cupola closed, and pushed it open. It was a little heavy, but manageable. He welcomed the sunlight that flooded through, although it did take his eyes time to adjust. He sighed, wishing he had time to explore the attic with the cupola hatch open, but he never did. It was hard to find time to get up here unnoticed.
He blinked a few times as he emerged into the brightly lit cupola and drew a breath at the heat wave that hit him, regretting it because of the terrible smell. He grimaced as he placed his hand on a condom, pulling his hand back and wiping it on his shorts. The place had gotten pretty disgusting lately, but it was private. He nodded to the one-armed, life-sized skeleton who guarded the entry to the cupola. The skeleton returned the grin with his haunting, toothy smile. He shook his head and tsk, tsked. "You really should get more to eat, Ed! You're wasting away."
Ed just grinned back. Cade was grateful for whoever had placed the one-armed skeleton up here. He made a great model.
Cade gazed around the room. Same graffiti— random profanities, hearts around initials, and poorly done artwork. The worst of these was a prominent, crude depiction of male genitalia on the paneling below one of the windows. On the floor was the same nasty foam mattress. He couldn't imagine that people actually lay on the disgusting thing, especially without clothes to protect them, but the condoms on the mattress and the bra that was still hanging from the wall proved that some people were thinking about things other than sanitation on their visits. The same trash on the floor, just more of it. The same old magazines were stacked in a corner. They hadn't been replaced forever. He'd tried using them for references, but they were too crass. The cloth-draped mirror was still there, and his easel lay in a corner, propped against a wall.
He could hear music down below, so he walked to the window to gaze out at the PE field. He couldn't help but notice that the windows extended to his knees. He swallowed. He hadn't thought of that before. Sure, he was high enough that no one could see anything from the ground, but still...
He looked down at the field. There was a pretty good turnout down there.
Would anyone miss him? He sighed. Probably not. Sure, he knew everyone. But he was never close to anyone, except maybe Dyl. Sort of.
Cade searched for Dylan and found him hanging around Phil. He and Dyl had a lot of fun together, but he never could go very deep with Dyl. Dyl didn't even know he was interested in art. And now, it looked like he was losing him again, this time to Phil.
He frowned, wondering why he never really clicked with anyone on the wrestling team. It was weird. They'd seen so much of each other. Good days. Bad days. Grumpy days when they hadn't been getting enough to eat. Parties after a particularly good meet. They'd hung out naked in the locker room and horsed around in the showers. A few of them had circle jerks together when they needed an out. Some of the guys even shared what they'd done with their girls over the weekend. They griped about their parents. They were constantly grappling with each other at practice. They encouraged each other and cheered each other up after failure. They'd been on long bus rides and shared hotel rooms and even beds. But despite all this closeness, Cade never felt like he connected with any of them.
Connected. He connected with Charlie just a little on that PE field. Then he blew it up in the worst way possible. It would have been bad enough with Dyl, but Charlie? Dyl would have laughed it off and probably would have shaken his buttocks around a bit before pulling his pants back up, but he couldn't imagine a worse thing he could have done to Charlie. He wanted to talk to him, but Max was probably right. Charlie probably would have been furious about being followed. Maybe he'd head over to his place today after he was done here. If he got up the nerve.
Cade sighed. Maybe he was just meant to be lonely. He just couldn't connect with people, no matter how hard he tried. Or maybe because he tried too hard.
His eye started stinging from sweat. He blinked and tried to rub it with Charlie's shirt. Shit, it was hot. Time to open the slats up.
Cade hurriedly opened the panels around the cupola, grateful that whoever had set this up had thought of cutting them out of the wall. Whoever had done this had been brilliant and bold. He took a deep breath from one of the slats, then stood to look at the street below. A car drove by the school. His stomach churned, and his penis hardened. He groaned, hoping he wouldn't lose it. There's no way he could get to the bathroom on time.
Was he seriously going to do this with so many people so close?
************
Charlie took another glance at the pond, wondering if he'd get a chance at skinny dipping somewhere he could actually swim, then started examining the area for rocks. Something shiny caught his eye in the nearby dirt pile that had been dug up when the pond was dug. He moved closer to investigate, finding a rock embedded in the dirt with what appeared to be polished, rectangular faces of silver. He grinned and dug at the dirt around the rock excitedly. He'd never seen anything like it. He wondered why he had never seen it, but figured that it had been deposited when the pool had been deepened somewhere along the way. His eyes widened as he lifted it. It was only the size of his fist, but it was surprisingly heavy. The rock was covered in silver-colored faces and quartz crystals. These were in a somewhat grainy, mottled brown matrix. Little patches of chrysocolla and possibly malachite flecked the surface. These gave Charlie a chill, and he tried to ignore them. This rock was a keeper, turquoise chrysocolla or not. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the image of the turquoise trailer.
Charlie wandered back to the road, holding his treasures, keeping his gaze ahead rather than at the ground. He knew he'd find more rocks to carry if he looked down, and he was still al ong way from home.
As he walked, he felt a familiar pressure in his bladder, so he set his rocks down and walked over to a piece of sagebrush. As he held his thing, he couldn't help but think of Cade's and wonder what it would be like to have a foreskin. He couldn't imagine it would be all that different, until it came to having to change, or worse, shower, with other guys. For a brief moment, Charlie felt bad for Cade. But just for a moment. Cade had always been trying to expose him. It started in cross country. Then, things got worse during PE. He always chose Charlie for his team when he was the team captain for PE, and had always tried to have their team be the skins. After the games, Cade had constantly tried to hide his shirt if he'd been on the skins team. And now the picture in the yearbook, and to finish him off, Cade stripped him in front of the PE class. Charlie growled as he pulled his shorts back up. What an... asshole!
Charlie's cheeks burned as he picked up his rocks again and headed back down the road.
He's going down. But how?
It's simple. Just call him out for exposing himself in the locker room, right in the middle of the hallway.
Charlie shivered.
The image of Cade standing there, exposed, flashed through Charlie's mind. But he didn't see Cade's thing, just the fear in his eyes.
Charlie shook his head. He paused, looked up at the sky, and took a deep breath. No. He wasn't going to have another ruined life on his conscience. Even if it was Cade.
He started studying his rock, trying to get his mind off of everything that had happened at school.
**********
Cade felt his stomach churn more and his heart race as he walked over to the mirror and lifted the black cloth. He had hidden the mirror with the cloth, figuring that not many people would want to see themselves doing what they were doing. Surprisingly, no one ever bothered it.
He walked over to his easel, bent over, and picked it up, setting it up so he could easily see the mirror. At first, he had hidden the easel with his other stuff, but lately, he had just left it up there. He figured that there was enough random stuff that no one would pay attention to it, and that most people had other things on their minds anyway.
And now... it was time to start. Cade tried to pull Charlie's now-damp shirt off his sticky torso, but it barely budged. He lifted it from the bottom and sighed as a cool breeze drifted across his abdomen. He walked closer to the wall for a stronger breeze and finally managed to lift his shirt over his head, taking a deep breath as the breeze caressed his chest and back. How Charlie had remained so slender, he had no idea. He'd seen the kid down five pieces of pizza, two breadsticks, a glass of root beer, and a stack of sandwich cookies at cross-country camp, and he was still as skinny as a beanpole. He inspected the shirt, wrinkling his nose at the smell. Fortunately, it was still intact, but it would definitely need to be washed before he got it back to Charlie tomorrow. Or maybe even tonight.
He stared at himself in the mirror, squeezing the fat on his stomach and sighing. His binge week after wrestling had extended to what, now, five? Six? However long the binging had lasted, it had taken its toll, and unfortunately, track wasn't keeping all the weight off. He'd been pretty chunky as a kid, but had managed to keep the weight off when he started running and wrestling. Holidays and the summer were always challenging. It probably didn't help that he always had his mom make at least three pies and several dozen sugar cookies to make up for what he missed at Thanksgiving and Christmas.
His stomach rumbled.
He untied his shoes and slipped them and his socks off, then he gave a little tug on his shorts. But they held. He tugged harder, and they just slid a bit. He tugged even more, and they finally slid down his legs, but his briefs stayed put. He frowned. Did Charlie just not have hips?
He sighed and slipped his shorts off, then stood, looking at himself in the mirror in his tented underwear. He frowned, adjusted himself, thinking maybe he'd just leave his underwear on. But no... for this picture to mean anything, it had to be of all of him, uncovered. He swallowed and slipped his briefs off, grimacing as he looked at the floor. He walked over to the skeleton and draped his underwear on the skeleton's good shoulder.
"Thanks, man!" He patted the skeleton on the back and headed back to the mirror. There he was, muffin top, foreskin, and all.
A flicker of movement out the window caught his eye, and his stomach did a somersault. His hand dropped in front of his erection, and he froze, heart hammering, breath heavy.
He swallowed and walked to the window where he had seen movement. Nothing. He turned to the next window. Two pigeons stared back at him, heads cocked.
Cade let out a sigh of relief. Who was he expecting, anyway? Icarus and Daedalus? "Enjoying the show, you little peeping Toms?" Cade asked the pigeons ruefully.
He walked gingerly around the remaining windows one more time, careful to keep himself covered, trying to avoid stepping on... stuff. He'd definitely need a long, hot shower tonight. Too bad he hadn't thought of bringing his thongs.
He picked up his sketchpad and pencil case and returned to his easel, opened the pad to the next blank page, and stared at it. He glanced quickly at the mirror. Was he really about to draw that?
Cade's hand trembled as he selected his pencil from his case and pressed its tip against the clean white paper.